Stigma Novels & Stories

CHOKING. DEGRÀDATION. DOUBLE PÈNETRATION. DÚBIOUS CONSENT. EDGÍNG. EXHIBITIONISM. FÔRCED ORGÀSMS. HUMILIÀTION. KIDNÀPPÈD. KNÍFE PLAY. MF/MM/MFM/MFMM. PÀIN. PARASÓMNIA. PRÀISE KÌNK. PRIMAL KÌNK. PUBLIC HUMILIATION. PTSD.

Stella entered the restroom. She was repulsed by the stink emanating from her body. However, she was furious. She and Clarence were made fun of by those who worked for Conrad Group. For Stella, the idea that his own employees were covertly making fun of him for his disability and impotence really infuriated her. Why could these individuals laugh at others with such abandon? How could it benefit them? Stella was soaked by shower water that cascaded down from the top of her head. She turned on the bathroom drain and removed her foul-smelling clothing. The man who spit beside the hot water was hurting. Subconsciously, she retreated two paces. When

And rogues never got the benefit of the doubt. Behind me, Damon let out a gruff, disbelieving sound, the frustration in his voice sharp as he called it out for what it was—nonsense. He pointed out what we already knew. The hospital wasn’t even near full capacity. Isla dropped her gaze to the floor. There was a heavy silence before she admitted the truth, one we’d all grown painfully used to. It wasn’t about space or policy. It was about stigma. No one helped rogues. Even getting this place up and running had been a battle every step of the way. I reminded Damon of it. We’d had to strong-arm a handyman just to get basic repairs done—no one wanted to be affiliat

He chuckled lightly and went away. “What was that?” Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing.” Penelope dragged herself towards her workstation. “I was just…” she closed her eyes in embarrassment. “You were distracted by his hair again, weren’t you?” Nora sighed. She covered her face. “You are actually very dumb. Just like a white person.” She said and put on her headphones. “We both are white.” She scrunched her nose. “Yeah, but you are the dumb one.” She rolled her eyes. “I know.” She covered her face again. ***

I am only being practical. 'Well, doctor,' Mr. Aku returned. 'I must thank you for the great concern you have shown towards my daughter and this terrible problem that almost cost us her life. It is not that I don't understand what you are saying concerning the social stigma that usually follow this type of problem. For we may know the circumstances surrounding the whole situation. But outsiders must have their own opinions and their own stories. And I know what some of such opinions look like. You see, the problem here is this, how can we find a reasonable fellow who would take very good care of the child these days when people do all kinds of evil thing

⁑ “Enough, with those thought!” ⁑ “I can’t help it. If this hadn’t happened then her pack members wouldn’t leave family members for a war they have no need to be in!”, I state.⁑ ⁑ “I know what you mean but that doesn’t give you the right to just think those thoughts. A pack sticks together no matter what; that’s why even though we may feel like shit for them being in the war we also need to remember that our mate is a werewolf and werewolves stick together no matter what.”, he says then explains.⁑

I move backwards, my breath hitches and I feel my heart thudding against my chest. "How will you get a wounded mother out of your head? How will you survive the pain that I'll go through? I'll haunt you. Every fucking day. Because you're a fucking stigma on the name of mother", she seethes. "You're wrong! I'm not. I'm not", I scream. "I don't want her to die. I never wanted her to die" "That doesn't change anything. Any consequences. You're the worst mother. You would be the murderer of your own daughter. Your gonna survive with stigma upon yourself your whole life"

Her husband was every bit the man her father was, even worse. She had finally gathered the much-needed courage to walk out on the marriage while she could but the stigma had stuck and no matter the brave front she put up she could not escape it. The constant name-calling, the gossip, the accusations, the stares from everyone, some pitiful, some accusatory. They had called her accursed, rejected in her home and rejected by her husband.

seeks to evade it. Are victims of other crimes ashamed to have been victimized? Maybe. But there is a particular, and particularly huge, stigma associated with sexual violence. I refuse to feel ashamed of what was done to me. The shame of the act is not mine, it is on the one who perpetrated the crime. My other rapists may never be punished, but they will always be guilty. The language I use to talk about sexual violence should place the spotlight on the fact that another person perpetrated a crime against me, and we do not call the victim of a robbery a "survivor."

Or, I’d bе lаbеlеd a ѕlut. There’s ѕоmеthіng ѕо tасkу about an unwеd mоthеr in a small tоwn. Evеn those whо mаkе thе mоѕt honest mіѕtаkеѕ аrе vіlіfіеd bу thе lосаlѕ, whеthеr іt’ѕ tо thеіr fасеѕ or bеhіnd thеіr bасkѕ. I соuldn’t lіvе with the stigma. I соuldn’t ѕurrеndеr my futurе to a child соnсеіvеd with such hаtе, аnd the wоrld fеlt like it was сlоѕіng іn оn mе.